Darkness Comes From Within
by TheUltimateSlytherin
Summary: Raised hating muggles for mistreating him, Harry arrives at Hogwarts as a bitter boy. Unusually intelligent, he gets recruited by the Unspeakables. Dark!Harry
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Dudley and his gang kept going "Harry hunting" and with each day, Harry was getting more and more bruises. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't care. Even if he went to tell them, he'd get even more beatings by Uncle Vernon.

"_Freak,"_ the lips parted and spit flew.

Harry flinched away from the droplets of saliva, trying not to let the bigger boy bother him. His shoulders were drawn up defensively and his eyes were directed toward the swings. A soft growl escaped his lips and his fingers curled inward into fists.

"You're a freak, a freak, freak, freak!" The boy laughed, pushing Harry.

The dark-haired boy stumbled, trying to gather his footing. The toe of his sneakers got caught on a tree root and he went down hard, scraping his palms and knees.

The children laughed.

Harry laid there staring at the blood slowly dripping down his palms, onto his wrists. Blood had such a nice red colour didn't it? Tears did not fall even when Dudley and his gang kicked him hard in the ribs before he turned and left.

Tears had stopped long ago.

Instead, brilliant emerald eyes turned from the blood to Dudley's back. The stare was unnerving, as if his eyes were bearing holes into his back. His lips thinned and fury started building in his chest. He struggled to sit up and winced from the pain. No, he could not show weakness. The rest of Dudley's gang was watching him from afar. More kids were watching him from the playground. No one ever approached him besides Dudley and his gang. They were all afraid. Afraid of him or afraid of getting targeted by Dudley and his gang, those bullies.

Still, Harry despised them. They were all weak. Too afraid, too stupid, didn't ever dare to stand up for themselves or for what they thought was right.

He glowered, holding his still throbbing midriff and stalking back home, that is, if he could even call that inhabitable hole home. He lived in a cupboard! Not even a proper room. He knew that if he went to an orphanage, he would have gotten to at least share a room. But where was the fun in letting the Dursleys get the satisfaction from him leaving?

The Dursleys, neighbors or even teachers never once asked him if he was alright. Even Aunt Petunia who he knew was related through his mother's side. Once, a teacher got involved in matters. In the end, the Dursleys told her a cock and bull story about how Harry was a troubled child and loved telling lies. From then on, no one cared ever got involved. The neighbors knew him as the troublesome child, one who always got into trouble. Even if they saw Dudley starting a fight, they never got involved, they did not help matters. This was why Harry hated authority figures. If you had the power yet never helped people, why do you have this power then?

Harry glowered and went into the house, passed Aunt Petunia, hurrying to his cupboard.

He was better than them, he knew. Nursing his scraped palms best as he could, Harry entered his cupboard and collapsed on the bed. The thin mattress groaned as it collided with the rusty springs. Paying no heed to the blood on his hands, Harry picked up the side of the mattress and took out a thick envelope of parchment hidden within his shirt.

Staring at the letter cradled to his chest, he allowed a small smile to cross his lips.

He had gotten his Hogwarts letter today.

At first, he thought it was a joke. However, looking at the things he could do, he knew he was special.

Lying back onto the bed, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift, to wonder what the world of witchcraft and wizardry was like. Blood stained the parchment, but he didn't notice nor care. He was imagining a world where he was like all the others, a world where children wouldn't tease him because he was different. And most importantly, he was starved for all the knowledge he could attain in this new world. Even at his young age, Harry knew the importance of intelligence.

But most of all, Harry was thrilled at the chance to prove himself to everyone. He wanted to make a name for himself in the wizarding world. He didn't want to be just an orphan, or the small boy everyone could pick on, no—he wanted to use his special powers to his own advantage.

Ever since Harry was young, he noticed he was never like Dudley or the other children. He could in some sense, manipulate things to his own liking. If he concentrated really really hard, he could move things or unlock the lock on his cupboard. There were also other times when accidents happened. Accidents which Harry found to be interesting.

There was a time where Harry was feeling really angry at Dudley for chasing him around and Harry jumped from behind the bins where he was hiding onto the roof. Just remembering it made Harry's fingers tremble in excitement.

Finally, he would be going into a world where he would not be judged.


	2. Chapter 2: Diagon Alley

Harry held the spatula in his delicate fingers and started shuffling the sausages in the pan. He heard timer for the oven go and slid out the pan containing roast. Harry quickly set it on the counter and shuffled the sausages one more time then set the table.

After the table was set, he started placing the dishes which he prepared. Just as he was bringing the last bowl of food, Dudley entered the dining room. The large boy sneered at him and moved to his seat. Just as Harry was reaching the table, Dudley stuck out a chubby foot and tripped him. He tumbled to the ground, dropping the bowl of mashed potatoes. The mashed potatoes splattered on the clean kitchen floor and the glass bowl shattered.

Harry could feel the shards of glass piercing his arms and face as it shattered. Petunia, hearing the commotion in the kitchen, instantly appeared.

"How dare you ruin my plate you ungrateful boy?!" She shrieked at him, pulling his hair to yank him up. "No dinner for you tonight!"

Blood was dripping down his face from a cut near his eyebrow. He let an emotionless mask slip into place and stared at her coolly. Not getting a desired reaction from him, she smacked him with all her might a few times before she threw him to the ground at Vernon's feet. Vernon looked at him with narrowed eyes and dragged him to his cupboard, throwing him in.

In the cupboard, Harry was already slowly removing the glass pieces from his face and arms. Setting them aside for later use, when he wanted to see the pretty colour of blood again.

Closing his eyes, he meditated. Harry started meditating a few months ago and discovered he felt something different. It was not his pulse but instead, it felt warm, it made him feel contented. When he woke up, all his cuts and bruises were gone. Focusing on that feeling again but this time with his eyes open, he pointed to the door of his cupboard and it clicked open.

He knew he had to look acceptable for a meeting the next afternoon and it wasn't just any meeting. It was THE meeting. Where he would go and confront his uncle then go and meet the rest of the Wizarding world.

The next morning, after Harry cooked breakfast for the Dursleys, he decided that it was time to confront his relatives (well, if you could even call them related). He found them on the couch, his aunt sipping a cup of tea, his uncle reading the news paper and Dudley was at a friend's place. His uncle scowled at him as he leaned forwards onto the coffee table with his two arms

"What do you want boy?!" He bristled.

"You'd better have a good reason to be disturbing us!" Petunia sneered at him.

"Tell me… Tell me of everything you know about magic and of Hogwarts. I want the truth."

They both paled at this.

"N-now you see boy! There's no such thing! And we have no reason to take these bad manners from you!" His uncle said, rising from the couch.

Harry lifted a hand and the coffee table rose with it.

"Oh, but Uncle, I really do believe you."

That afternoon, Harry stepped off from the vehicle and his uncle quickly shot off, not wanting to be seen near the _freak_. Harry silently gazed at the small shabby looking pub, watching as the people around him did not seem to see it. A smirk tugged at his lips. He stepped into the pub. People sat around tables, chatting, eating and reading the paper.

Harry gracefully walked past all of them, towards the counter. A man behind the counter, the bar keep looked up from cleaning a glass, "What do you need, lad?"

"Could you help me get into Diagon Alley?" He replied.

The man nodded and led him out into a courtyard. Harry walked through the brick arch and looked around himself impassively.

This was Diagon Alley? It did not look like what he had imagined. It looked like some horrible village with people bustling around. Wizards and witches rushed around wearing terribly old fashioned clothes. Did the magical population's clothes not improve through the times? Harry was also quite disappointed. He had thought that witches and wizards would somehow carry themselves differently from the non-magical people. Or perhaps they would have some sort of aura he could sense around them. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Harry headed off towards the great white marble building of Gringotts Bank.

Stepping into the building, Harry immediately walked towards one of the empty counters with a goblin behind it. The goblin immediately sneered down at him.

"Ah yes, what do you want?"

"I was wondering if my parents left anything to me after they died." Harry replied politely.

The goblin gave him another sneer but pulled out a bowl and knife with intricate carvings from under the teller's counter.

"Let some blood drip in."

Harry took the knife, examining the craftsmanship. Then, he slashed his palm open right down the middle and let the blood splash into the bowl.

"It only needed a few drops"

Harry shrugged and concentrated on healing his palm. After half a second, his palm knitted back together and the goblin looked at him in surprise for a split second. When Harry blinked, the goblin's face was already blank. Then, he followed the goblin to his school vault and got out a pile of gold.

Walking through Diagon Alley, Harry got most of the required objects on the list in his Hogwarts letter except for his wand as he was planning to buy that last. He bought many books; yes, he liked books as books were knowledge. They held power. He got books of every sort. There were ones on pure blood etiquette, wandless magic, books on himself, etc.

Harry grabbed a wand from Mr Ollivander and the window shattered without him even moving his arm at all. He sighed as the man quickly grabbed it away from him and hurried off, finding another one for him to try. He finally came back with a wand in a box and held it up to Harry as if it were made out of glass. Harry grabbed it and it shot out red and gold sparks which quickly fizzled out. He frowned. This wand did not feel good in his hand. Sure, he could work with it but it was not a perfect fit. Mr Ollivander looked at him for a moment then wandered off to find more wands for Harry.

After yet a few more wands, Harry decided to let his magic guide him. He closed his eyes and focused. After awhile, he felt a calling. A wand was calling him. Silently gliding towards it, he reached out to the last shelf in the shop and pulled out a box right at the back of the top shelf.

Inside the box was the most beautiful wand Harry had ever seen. It was white and when Harry held it in his hand, silver sparks shot out of the tip. He paid and left the shop with a wand. 12 inches, aspen wood with the core of Basilisk venom and Phoenix ash.


	3. Chapter 3: Hogwarts at last?

Harry stood at the entrance to the station as he glanced at his ticket again. Hedwig was on his shoulder and gave a hoot of an annoyance. Harry frowned and glanced around; he couldn't see anything special which seemed to allow him into the Wizarding world.

Was this whole thing a huge practical joke?

Harry headed into the station, following the signs until he found platforms nine and ten. He could feel the same sort of energy he termed magic humming around one pillar. Without a second thought, he walked directly into the pillar and appeared by a large red train.

Harry walked through the crowd and towards the train aimlessly. There were students and parents everywhere, seeing their children off to Hogwarts. He eyed the parents, watching as mothers kissed and hugged the children while fathers gave them a talk. Harry liked to pride himself on being independent, but he was only eleven. Watching those exchanges gave him a brief sting.

A handsome blond couple caught Harry's interest. A father and son, by the looks of their same platinum blond hair, were saying goodbye in their own way. They stood stiffly apart, not touching, but softly exchanging words. They almost appeared formal in their departure, neither of them showing any affection, nor any signs of being affected by the upcoming absence of the other. Their clothing appearing being made from the finest silk and material. Even the stitching and buttons looked luxurious.

Harry found his feet automatically bringing him towards the pair. Thankfully, the entrance to the train was a few steps away from them, so it would not appear odd for Harry to be walking towards the two.

The father, with his pale blond hair making him stand out from the crowd, glanced at Harry. At that moment, Harry felt as if his eyes pierced his soul, rendering him vulnerable to another.

None of the witches and wizards at either Diagon Alley or at the platform made him feel this defenceless. Harry allowed a brief show of awe before quickly reconstructing his mask.

This…_ this _blond man had power. The power and allure Harry had dreamed witches and wizards would have. When Harry went into Diagon Alley, he was disappointed that all the people there felt like every other non-magical person. He thought every magical person was the same. But Harry noticed that this man was different from the rest. He wasn't ordinary. He was powerful.

Harry approached the two quicker, eager to get onto the train and away from the older man's stare. He passed them, keeping his eyes on the older man's. Inside, he was shuddering from the intensity of the gaze.

Harry's shoulders drooped as soon as he went into an empty compartment. Slamming the back of his head against the glass compartment door, he gave a shaky breath. His hands were trembling and his pulse was beating at its highest.

He didn't understand why he was reacting this way. Yes, he felt defenceless and vulnerable around the blond man, but there was more to it. Harry had almost felt the static around the older man. It was similar to electricity and heavy air. It was almost like Harry had sensed the man's magic. But shouldn't that be impossible?

Still, Harry couldn't help be allow a small smile to stretch his lips. _Finally, _he had seen a real wizard, a real magical figure that could stick out from a crowd of non-magical folk.

A knock sounded on the door and a red-head walked in and sat down on the opposite bench without invitation. Harry examined the kid across from him. The red-head had also been silently observing him. He was lanky with a mop of messy hair and many freckles spread across his face.

"Are you Harry Potter?" The red head blurted out.

Harry scowled. He had learned he was quite famous, being the Boy-Who-Lived. But he had also read that he had not been seen since he was a baby. So how could this red-headed kid recognize him? Sure, they knew he had black hair and green eyes. But didn't a few people have them? He gave a curt nod anyway.

"Can I see the… you know… the scar?" The kid asked in a whisper.

So, the kid wished to gawk. Harry glared and stood. Hedwig returned to his shoulder and walked gracefully from the compartment leaving behind a confused red-head.

.-.

Harry still felt a bit cold and shaken as he waited for the hat to finish its song. Despite being bitter and moody, he had taken notice of the beauty Hogwarts presented. It portrayed a warm glow to the students; yet the shadows were also alluring, welcoming, and provided an escape if Harry so needed it.

He couldn't wait to explore. He couldn't wait to learn and advance himself ahead of the students in his classes.

Knowledge… knowledge was power, wasn't it? As far as Harry knew, it was. The smarter someone was, the harder it was to take them down and get the better of them.

Harry's fists clenched as he waited for McGonagall to call his name. The whole time, he was aware of eyes upon him. A teacher in black with black eyes was staring at him. But Harry didn't know what his intentions were.

"Potter, Harry," McGonagall spoke.

Harry moved past the solid forms of the other first years. He stepped up the wooden stairs, heading towards the hat on the stool. Whatever happened here would alter his future completely. A house was a very important factor in Hogwarts life. But the Sorting Hat was skilled in the mind and character arts. Only the Sorting Hat knew which house best suited you.

Before he sat on the stool, he glanced up towards the house table and met the eyes of the headmaster. It was the first time he really looked at the head of the table. Harry paused in his advance. This man… this man was just like the blond man. Only this time, much stronger. Harry swallowed at the amount of static and hair-raising power surrounding the man. Those blue eyes kindly twinkled back at Harry, making him appear as if he was ignorant of his own power. That old man was pure power.

Harry continued forwards after the old man gave him a kindly nod. Harry needed to get a hold on himself. But even his own internal scolding could not stop his hands from trembling. The close proximity with the old man was getting to him.

"Harry Potter. A soul that has seen so much hardship. One sly enough, cunning enough, to make Salazar proud. Eager to prove yourself. You are powerful. I believe the last I saw such power was in the days of The Founders." The hat whispered.

Harry tilted his head slightly, did the hat say this much to all the students?

"Patience young one, I believe the house for you is SLYTHERIN!" The hat shouted the last word as the house in green and silver cheered.


	4. Chapter 4: Settling in

Author's note:  
Hi all! Im posting this a little early as i wont have time to post a chapter next week!^^  
.-.

And here's the chapter~~

Chapter 4: Settling in

Throughout the welcoming feast, Harry could feel yet another pair of eyes on him. He could sense the curiosity burning in those twinkling blue eyes as they watched him carefully.

He could already see that the Ravenclaws were raring to study the saviour of the Wizarding world, to see what was wrong with him that he would be sorted in into Slytherin. The Hufflepuffs would not be judgmental until they got to know him. However, the Gryffindors would be the most problematic to him. He wanted to keep a low profile here at Hogwarts but those Gryffindors most probably wouldn't let him. They would arrogantly demand to know what he was doing with those "slimy Slytherins" and then start taunting and scoffing at him.

Harry sat alone at the Slytherin table, silently planning his next move. He could not seem suspicious or anti-social, but needed to look well reserved and studious. The rest of the Slytherin students saw he wished to be left alone. So they left him for now. Harry tuned out the rest of the sorting and only half listened to Dumbledore's speech, storing away what he said to study carefully later. When the food appeared, he dug in silently.

In comparison, Slytherin appeared to be a rather comatose house. Harry looked along the table and noted several heated conversations held in hushed undertones. Some spoke quietly, chuckling at something someone else said. Others were simply busy with their own thoughts, much like Harry was.

.-.

Harry followed the Slytherin prefects after the meal. They climbed down a great deal of staircases towards the underground dungeons. When they reached an inconspicuous piece of wall, they stopped.

"Now listen here, the password to the Slytherin dorms is _Pureblood_. You'd do well to remember it," A prefect said as he led the first years into the dorm.

The wall slid to the side revealing the Slytherin common room. It was classy and elegant with black couches and finely made oak desks. The walls were a pale green with silver mixed in, giving a marble effect. There was a painting of the founder of the house, Salazar Slytherin over the large fire place that seemed to keep the room warm.

The Slytherin prefect, who someone identified as Marcus, pointed out two doors.

"The boys' rooms are to the left and the girls' rooms are to the right. No more than two people to a room. These roommates would be with you through your seven years of schooling."

Harry walked quietly towards the blond he saw at the station, "Room with me?"

The blond gave a nod and introduced himself, "Draco, Draco Malfoy."

"Harry Potter."

Harry and Draco both walked towards Marcus and gave their names for the rooming list. Then, they chose the room closest to the dorm as no boys had chosen their rooms yet.

Only when they got into the room that Harry managed to get a close look at the boy that he would be rooming with for the next seven years. Draco had white blond hair, aristocratic features along with high cheek bones.

Their trunks had already arrived and were waiting at the ends of the beds for them. Harry got up and sat down onto his large queen sized four poster bed. On his bed held a note saying, "All Slytherins are to report for the welcoming speech done by Professor Snape at 9pm sharp or will suffer the consequences."

"It's time. Let's go for the speech," Draco said as he walked out of the door.

.-.

"You are all Slytherins. Your house is a place of pride and power, of cunning and survival. Slytherin house is no place for the weak. Slytherin is where the ambitious will rise to success and where the blubbering dunderheads will fail." He said with no preamble and raked them with his gaze.

"All fighting or disagreements can only happen here in the four walls of this room. You must appear united in the eyes of the rest of the houses. Those who fear you will think nothing of setting you against one another. You will receive no mercy outside of these dungeons. Do try to solve problems within yourselves before asking others for help. First years, I would be having a compulsory meeting with each and every one of you individually. That is all." Professor Snape said as if he memorized this speech and with his black cloak swirling, left the room.

After lingering for a while, Harry decided to go back to the room. When Draco saw him leaving, it was as if he followed a silent command and followed him back.

Harry opened his trunk and pulled out a fresh set of clothes, setting them aside for tomorrow. Then, he just stripped to his boxers after brushing his teeth and fell onto the bed almost asleep as he hit the pillow. As he drifted off, he faintly noticed the castle's magic slipping into his mind.

Harry woke up early to get ready for the first day of classes and blinked in surprise. The room he and Draco slept in was different. The sheets were a comforting brown. The nightstand on the side of both beds were made of oak and sturdier looking. The floor had a thick Persian rug, perfect for lying on and the walls were mostly in darker colors with splashes of silver.

"I love it." Harry declared, and the magic around the room flare.

Continuing with his morning ritual, he decided he needed to look perfect; a tinge of innocence and a pinch of ignorance, coupled along with a charming smile and a graceful walk could work. Those first impressions always counted.

Just as he was done in the bathroom, Draco finally woke up. Harry was just wondering if he should have woken Draco up.

"Wow, you look… Stunning," Draco gasped as Harry gave him a charming smile.

Looks like his "first impression look" was a success. Funny how a little eyeliner that accentuated his eyes and a little sway of his hips together with an innocent look on his face could work so well.

.-.

The Slytherin first years went down to the great hall together. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were in the front, Harry was in the middle with the girls and Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott bringing up the rear.

Once seated in the great all, Harry looked up to the head table and immediately caught Professor Snape's eyes. Those eyes, though appeared to be cold, was only a defense. Those eyes actually harbored warmth which Harry could feel from that intense gaze.

It was as if… he could read Harry's mind. But that was impossible, wasn't it? Harry decided that he needed to do more reading up on mind magics. Besides that, Harry could also feel the allure from the man's power. He felt as powerful as Mr Malfoy. Perhaps, even more powerful.

Harry quickly looked down, suddenly unable to continue the staring match. He tried to stop himself as his hands shook under the table and a shudder travelled down his spine. He had to learn to control himself before his first potions lessons with the man.

As Professor Snape walked around handing out timetables, Harry could feel his power drawing nearer and nearer and had to control his bodily reactions. As he received his timetable with a silent "Thank you, sir," their hands brushed.

It was then when he felt a spark. It was a spark from his magic! He had never felt anything like this before. Judging from the flicker of emotion that crossed the professor's face, he had also never felt anything like it.

Quickly finishing up his food as gracefully as he could, Harry quickly took out his potions book to read through, revising while waiting for his housemates as potions was the first lesson and he did not want to disappoint.


End file.
